


I can do it (but I'm only human)

by Bean_reads_fanfic



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark, Whumptober 2020, it's my birthday and i'll gift y'all a fic if I want to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27183856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bean_reads_fanfic/pseuds/Bean_reads_fanfic
Summary: The reality is that every kidnapping is unique, with its own fun surprises. For example, in this place, he’s handcuffed to a chair across from Peter Parker handcuffed to another chair. And that’s unpleasantly new.And their kidnapper is asking, “Did you even know what he was capable of when you took him in, Stark?”...Peter has a power other than he told Tony at their first meeting, a power he never uses as Spiderman... because it's scary even to him. Then the wrong person finds out.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 35
Kudos: 435





	I can do it (but I'm only human)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blondsak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/gifts).



> Hello tomorrow is my golden birthday (25 on the 25th) so please enjoy my writing, that's all i want :) more writing will be coming from me shortly... im sure you're used to the drill by now if you've stuck around me long enough...
> 
> Dedicated to BLONDIE because i wanted to write this idea for your birthday but didn't get time, and then you posted a birthday gift to everyone on your own birthday so I thought I'd do the same for you. You are the patron goddess of being a supportive friend!!

It may seem from the outside that having been kidnapped multiple times in his life would make Tony Stark less frightened to open his eyes and find himself handcuffed to a chair in an unfamiliar place. In a way, that’s true; he was desensitized to the shock. But he’d also picked up on the reality that every kidnapping is unique, with its own fun surprises. 

For example, in this place, he’s handcuffed to a chair across from Peter Parker handcuffed to another chair. And that’s unpleasantly new. 

“Pete?” he tries, voice cracking before he clears his throat and tries again. “Peter, kid, you up?”

Peter is not up. His chin is resting on his chest, eyes half-open and occasionally blinking but too glassy to be aware. Probably has something to do with the IV line feeding substances into his arm-- and that in turn makes Tony a bit queasy. 

But again, he’s over the shock of receiving nasty shocks, so he takes a deep breath through his nose and looks around. Kidnapper has them across from each other at a long polished table in an expensive-looking conference room. The blinds are open and sunny daylight is lighting the room and giving a nice view of the New York skyline, as if to flex on them exactly how easy their nonconsensual presence is to maintain. What a dick. 

Obviously none of the other chairs are occupied but Peter’s, and Tony sees no overly-special locking mechanism on the door when he twists around to look. He does however see a security camera mounted in the corner which is surely doing more than its usual job today. He gives Kidnapper between five and ten minutes to show him-or-herself and dole out some version of the “oh-how-you’ve-wronged-me-Tony-Stark” speech. 

There’s a clock on the wall behind Peter. He multi-tasks while following the second hand: breathe in 4 seconds, hold 4 seconds, breathe out 4 seconds, hold 4 seconds, check on Peter, breathe in 4 seconds, hold 4 seconds, breathe out 4 seconds, hold 4 seconds, check on Peter… 

The door clicks open in 5 minutes and 43 seconds. Kidnapper’s on the eager side then; whether that makes him a sloppy one or not, Tony supposes he’s about to find out. 

“Oh come on,” he sighs, pretty much instantly upon seeing their face, genuine disappointment in his voice. “Not you. You suck.”

Norman Osborn is dressed to the nines, and that and the sharp smile he levels Tony are fit for this venue. No it makes sense-- even guys as awful as him probably don’t have dungeons lying around. “Tony,” he greets, as though the cuffs on his wrists and ankles aren’t what keep them in the same room right now. “It’s nice to see you.”

Tony’s expression is carefully bored, carefully hiding exactly how much his heart resembles a loose jackhammer as the man strides along  _ Peter’s _ side of the table, setting a hand on  _ Peter’s _ shoulder in a casually troubling show of possession. 

“Cut the crap, you tool,” he says. “I hate you and you hate me. We know this. What’s the kid here for? What are you giving him?”

Norman allows annoyance into his features for a flash before it’s schooled. He takes clear pleasure in Tony’s clear stress as he shakes Peter’s shoulder playfully and says, “Oh, Peter? Peter Parker, also known as Spider-Man? This kid? Aw, you like him so much I figured I’d snag you both for the price of one.”

“Which one were you in the market for in the first place?” Tony asks, even though he’s gleaned the answer before it comes.

Norman chuckles. “Not you.” He takes the seat next to Peter, busying himself with turning off the IV and removing the needle as he does so. “As for what I’ve given him, it’s a cocktail of my own, made with his chemistry in mind. If there’s one thing I know, it’s chemistry, and--”

“If there’s one thing you know, it’s calling your glorified meth lab a business,” Tony mutters.

“--there’s nothing I love more than a spectacle of chemistry and biology. My spider project? Combining radioactivity with living specimens? It’s only sad I didn’t link up the timing up sooner than I did, I’ve gotta say.” By now, he’s got the IV disconnected and a bandaid on Peter’s arm where the prick was and is just staring at the kid’s drowsy face like a grade-A creep. “But now that I’m caught up, I can’t wait for a demonstration of what I made.”

Kidnappings. You’d think they’d get easier but they just get worse.

Tony’s voice goes even. “What do you want, Normy?” He’s really saying,  _ you have the advantage, okay? Message received. You got me. I’ll do whatever it is you wanted.  _

Norman’s gaze slides to him, and then it hits, the familiar, helpless terror: because the other man’s face says,  _ As much as I enjoy that, I really don’t actually want anything from you other than to watch you suffer.  _

It’s quiet save for the woosh of the air conditioning.

“Did you even know what he was capable of when you recruited him, Stark?” Norman says.

That’s distracting enough to pull Tony out of the terror, for now. He scowls and speaks over-loudly. “What are you even on about, man? Are you on drugs of your own right now?”

Peter stirs at the noise, grimacing when he must find that he meets resistance from the cuffs. His eyes are still open but still empty, though without a steady stream of drugs it can’t be too much longer before he’s coherent. 

Norman stands, straightening his suit coat and patting Peter’s cheek as he strides toward the door again without another word. His smugness is more enraging than a speech.

“I  _ know _ he’s a child,” Tony yells at the man’s back. “I know that makes you a child kidnapper and that you won’t get away with this!”

But the door’s already shut and locked again.

Tony just allows himself to cuss loudly and openly for a few minutes before he resumes the only coping skill he’s got.

Breathe in 4 seconds, hold 4 seconds, breathe out 4 seconds, hold 4 seconds, check on Peter, breathe in 4 seconds… 

…

Peter’s unconsciousness and consciousness bleed together very non-distinctly. He is awake (but maybe asleep?) and didn’t remember falling asleep (or waking up?). He knows that when he moves his arms and legs they feel annoyingly trapped and that someone is there trying to get his attention every time he drifts and forgets they’re there.

“Wha’ do you want,” he manages to slur after one such bid for his attention, annoyed that he can’t be fully awake or asleep.

“Be still my soul,” someone says, someone he realizes sounds vaguely familiar. “He finally says something other than incoherent gibberish and it’s just sass. I’m rubbing off on you, Underoos. Don’t know if I should be proud or sorry.” 

Peter realizes his eyes are open. Dimly lit shapes surround him, one of them straight ahead being the person making all the noise- someone with a nice goatee. “Miss’r Stark?” 

They say more, but he’s drifting again.

Could be minutes or hours later when he comes to next. This time when he registers the press of  _ cuffs, oh, those are handcuffs, _ he sits bolt upright enough to wobble the chair he’s in and startle Tony, blinking away kaleidoscope colors. His mouth is dry. Everything is out of sorts. He tugs at his wrists again.

“What's going on?” he says. 

“You seem actually awake this time, thank God,” Tony says across from him, with genuine-sounding relief. “I’m starting to think whatever he gave you would’ve killed a normal human because, holy crap-”

“Have we - are we- we’re kidnapped?” 

“...‘Fraid so, young buck.”

“When… Where-”

There are city lights in a dark sky to the left. A door to the right slams open to reveal a cartoonish bad guy silhouette framed in yellow light.

Peter feels like his body is made of lead, and his mind is made of even heavier stuff if the speed at which it’s processing is anything to go by. He can only watch as men enter the room and flank both him and Tony. Tony’s grumbling insults at them while they remove the cuffs and stand him up, and the same happens to Peter before they’re shuffled into a corridor with lights that make Peter squint.

He whines, throws his weight against the men dragging him in an attempt to escape, but the made-of-lead deal must really be only in his head; they readjust their grips on him as though barely inconvenienced. Some of Tony’s steady stream of talk turns toward him, attempts to reassure, to promise, “it’s gonna be okay, kid, just hang in there. I know you’re really confused right now but calm down if you can.”

Peter has been kidnapped zero times (unless being held up in Toomes’ car for a few minutes on Homecoming night counts), so he tries to believe Tony. He stops struggling, watching with blurry eyes as he and Tony are separated and the only person he knows disappears around a different corner. 

Where he ends up is tossed into a sort of cell, a door slamming behind him. When he lifts his head he can see that it’s actually a glass case, and that through the glass… through the glass, a curtain. A curtain shielding him from view from people behind. His senses are shot like his strength, but he hears enough of a quiet murmur to tell: there are a good number of people on the other side of this case. Milling around like they’re waiting for a show. 

Which- “Don’t like that,” he mutters. “Really don’t like that. Gosh, service here is- zero stars.”

At some point along the way, the handcuffs had been removed entirely but a different kind of metal band was securely attached to his right wrist. The first thing he does is rub at its skin-pinching tightness. The next thing is to drag himself up from the floor where the grunts had thrown him, curl into a ball with his head between his knees, and take huge gulps of air. 

He’s definitely awake now, adrenaline-saturated blood sprinting in his veins. 

Gosh, what’s the last thing he can remember before this? Was it leaving school that day? Or was it already a different day? Why does he feel so weak? No OTC medicine has the strength to reach him anymore, it’s something Tony’s helping him out with by providing prescription stuff. 

Somewhere, Tony is here too. Tony is Iron Man. He won’t let anything unfixably awful happen to Peter. Especially in this situation, but even at baseline and in spite of the ferry thing - he thinks Tony kind of cares about him now.

(In the back of his head, a voice used to tormenting him with this same reminder says,  _ well, cares as long as he doesn’t find out about- you know. You being a freak show.  _ As usual, Peter physically shakes his head to make that voice go away.)

Time passes, time in which Peter manages to stand on shaky legs and pace around his cell. It’s built like it’s meant for containing the Hulk, which he pretends is flattering. Clearly the host knows who he is. He’s cheered in the sense that his powers seem to be on the rebound, and even tries giving the glass some shoves here and there; no dice. 

And then, as he’s examining the seal running along the ceiling (by means of wall-sticking), Peter freezes.

Outside the glass, people are applauding. A figure on the other side of the curtain is suddenly lit up by a spotlight. His voice is charismatic when he speaks into the microphone. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, fellow scientific minds, patrons of my work. Thank you for being here. As promised, I do have quite the spectacle for you this evening.” A pause for clapping. “...But I’d like to remind you all that you’re bound by what you’ve signed before your admission tonight; further, photographic devices are not allowed to be used from this time forward.

“Now technicalities out of the way, I trust you’re hungry to learn about this secret project I wanted to share with you all, the first audience to ever see such a thing. I would call your minds back to my demonstration earlier this year; the one in which I speculated on a possible mutation of human and animal DNA to create something more- an attempt to peel back the veil and see what comes next for humanity in terms of our evolution…” 

Peter drops to the floor, his palms going cold. 

“...Unbeknownst to me, a specimen of those experiments escaped its enclosure and made contact with a young human visitor to the laboratories on that day…”

There isn’t anywhere he can hide in this freaking -  _ exhibit _ .

“...After minimal naturalistic observation and personal examination of what DNA samples could be collected from the Oscorp hybrid, I feel confident that what I am about to show you and see for myself for the first time will not only impress but...”

Waitwaitwait- Oscorp? Is that Norman  _ Osborn _ speaking? Tony’s nemesis?

The curtains begin to draw apart.

Light blinds him. 

Yep, his senses are back and dialed to eleven; he has to slam his eyes closed from the overexposure and corners himself as much as he can away from the sounds of people, people and more people- a small amphitheater's worth, all looking at him and murmuring curiously. 

_ “Young…” _

_ “Doesn’t look like much…” _

_ “I wonder what…” _

“Ladies and gentlemen!” the man, probably Osborn, says. They hush. “I would like to demonstrate to you how this seemingly ordinary child is more than he seems…”

Peeling his eyes open, Peter manages to look out at them. He flickers his gaze from the suavely-dressed Oscorp man (looking and gesturing at Peter, but still only talking to the audience), to the faces of those that stare back at him. He comes forward, pressing his hands to the glass, searching, searching--

There! In the front row, in basically the best seat in the room to hear and see what’s happening, is Tony. He’s the only one who meets Peter’s gaze with humanity-- and in all honesty, what looks like a strong mix of fear. He’s gritting his teeth, but Peter can only tell this from the set of his jaw due to the fact there’s a strip of tape over his mouth. His hands and feet are, once again, cuffed to the spot he’s seated. Those around him appear to either not notice or have no problem with this. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter says, fogging up the glass in front of him. 

The man gives his bindings a tug, holding Peter’s look with one of attempted reassurance, though that’s far from what Peter receives as his heart sinks to his sneakers. His hero is just as stuck as him. 

His fingers curl against the glass then fall to his sides. He takes a step back, shrinking under the scientific gaze of the Oscorp man. 

“Well?” the man says. Peter blinks. Was he being spoken to? He missed it, whatever it was.

Osborn sighs, getting close and knocking on the glass demeaningly. “C’mon, pet, you’ve got to pay attention. I said, demonstrate your setule-assisted wall-climbing abilities. Now.”

Indignance flares in Peter at the word  _ pet _ . He sits, making a point to fold his arms while holding an icy eye contact. Tony would do this. Tony would be as defiant as possible. 

A sigh. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” the man says coolly, before resuming a pleasant tone for his guests. “We’re going to build up his compliance. I am prepared for this.” Then there’s a button in his hand.

Peter’s danger-sense pipes up, goosebumps racing up his arms a second before the pain hits.

He yelps, clutching at his wrist with the tight metal band encasing it. It’s lit up, buzzing with electrical circuits. A shock collar. 

“Climb.”

He looks away, not moving.

Another shock, stronger this time, enough to make him double over and bite back a cry. 

“Climb.”

He just, he really really wants to embarrass this jerk in front of his smarmy business friends. He braces himself when his senses ring out again and-

_ Pain _ . It locks up his muscles, makes him lose control of his posture- he’s pretty sure he failed to keep in a scream on this one. When the whiteout in his vision clears, he’s laying on his side, panting and spasming with aftershocks. 

The voice is absolutely calm. “Climb.”

Peter scrambles upwards against the burn in his muscles, sloppily sticking himself to the closest glass he can touch. He nearly falls in his haste but manages to get up against it and then at least a few feet off the ground. 

His eyes are fixed on the remote in the man’s hand now, but he does hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Good. Higher. Hang off the ceiling.”

Peter feels frustrated stinging in his eyes. He obeys, determinedly not looking in the direction he knows Tony is sitting.

The crowd applauds. Oscorp guy nods and Peter lets go, flipping around to land feet-first. This doesn’t help with the increase in interested murmurs. 

“Good. As you can see, his reflexes are enhanced. We’ll next see samples of his enhanced flexibility and agility.” He turns to Peter. “Do some flips for us.” 

Peter has a sudden flashback to the hotdog vendor who asked for the same thing not so long ago.  _ “You’re that Spider-guy right? Do a flip! Yeah!”  _ Not his finest act of heroism, but it apparently lifted the guy’s spirits. This is not the same as that and yet Peter almost laughs, inappropriately finding it funny. 

“Are you serious? Do a flip?” he repeats, making Osborn’s face twitch. “I- I’m not-” he catches sight of the remote and flinches. “Okay okay, shut up.” 

He tries to pretend that he’s alone. Alone, just… in a random place somewhere in Queens, practicing stunts. He tells himself the oohs and ahhs are in his imagination. 

Is this all the stupid business guy really wants? To show off his powers like he engineered them himself? (Technically it sounds like he did, but Peter couldn’t care less; he’s not patented to anybody.) If so, then this is just stupid. He and Tony just have to bide their time going along with it until help comes or they find an opening to escape. 

Tony would be defiant, Peter thinks, but Tony would also be smart.

The man gives him some more specific instructions and Peter rolls his eyes showily but does what’s asked, finally catching Tony’s eye again in the meantime. The man still looks worried, is still occasionally tugging on his chains. When he sees Peter looking, he nods encouragingly. He imagines the nod meaning,  _ You’re doing great. Keep doing what they want for now.  _

Hope stirs behind Peter’s breastbone.

“Now, I’d like to show you his enhanced strength in person-” Peter has the thought  _ yeah, put something in here with me I can throw, just try it  _ \- “though I’m afraid that would be unsafe with his current level of training.” 

The teen huffs, glowering.

“...But, I’ve managed to obtain something else which may substitute until a later time. You see, the specimen had a recent experience with building collapse… and lucky for us, there happened to be a street cam nearby which documented the occurrence. I’ve refined what I could of the rather disappointing quality…”

Peter’s brow furrows.  _ No way.  _

A projector screen in the corner of the room lights up, angled just so that Peter can look if he wants. He watches long enough to see discernable footage outside the warehouse where Toomes and his weapon dealers did their work come into view. He sees his own form enter the building, on his way to confront Liz’s dad. The video is put on fast forward.

After that Peter can’t look. Gosh, his pulse picks up just remembering what happens next.

“You see, spiders can lift up to 15 times their own weight, but even what you’re about to see does not compare. I estimate this structure weighs about 20 tons in concrete and metal… and here you see it come down, this ‘Vulture’ character leaving safely… And fast forward a bit again… And yes. That rubble shifting, that’s him lifting everything. And the little spider emerges.”

Peter sees Tony. He, too, is staring at the video, his struggles with the bindings seemingly forgotten for the moment. His expression is one of surprise. Peter feels his cheeks and ears burning; this is not something he meant for Tony to find out about, it’s just embarrassing. It’s something that scares him to remember how scared he was. It makes him do weird things like research in the middle of the night about the structural integrity of buildings he goes into regularly, and get sweaty palms when he’s in parking garages for too long, and-

“-finally,” Osborn’s obnoxious voice says with all the relish of a ringmaster at finale. The projection shuts off, but Peter’s chest remains tight with the ghost of it now dug up in his head. “Now, I want to show you something truly intriguing.”

How did he know about the warehouse anyway? Has this guy done his homework or what? It’s one hundred percent creepy but more than that, it means he might  _ know _ . About- that. Does he know? 

From behind, the door Peter was thrown into opens and before he can turn around, another person is shoved in with him. He startles away, clinging to the wall and expecting to be attacked by this newcomer.

On the contrary, the man- a harmless-looking middle-aged guy with a paunch and a bald spot- stays where he’s landed on the floor with his hands thrown over his head. 

“Uh?” Peter tries. “Hi?”

He’s looked up at briefly and-- the way the man looks at him will haunt Peter. It’s fear. Fear like Peter is a giant hairy Shelob rather than a kid in an atom pun T-shirt. 

“This is Jared,” Osborn says with a hint of laughter. “Jared, well… he and I had a bit of a falling out in terms of his ability to live up to the standards of excellence I hold for my personal employees. Consequently, he will be the subject of demonstration for this last bit, poor bloke. This is what I’m most eager to see myself.”

-And Peter knows. He knows that the guy knows. And this is- the  _ worst _ way for Tony to-

He finds Tony's face, and sees him looking at the announcer guy with pure annoyance. Of course he is; he doesn’t know what he’s getting at. As far as he knows, they’ve covered the bases on all Peter’s powers. And they have… as far as what Peter lives his life as Spider-Man pretending. 

“...I can tell he knows what I’m talking about.” Norman, his grin goblin-like, is watching Peter again. He nods toward the Jared guy now in the enclosure with him. “I’ll let you take it away then, pet.”

There are so many things wrong right now that Peter feels a swelling in his ears like water is rising up, coming to drown him. He clenches shaking hands into fists and looks around anew with desperation for escape. 

This isn’t happening.

_ This isn’t happening.  _

_ The man screams out again and Peter flinches, horrified. It’s an ugly, primal, guttural sound. “Please!” he begs through the screams, writhing on his back in the dirt and grime of the alley. “Please m-make it stop! oh g-” more screaming.  _

_ It’s like a horror movie. Peter is frozen like a deer in headlights, unable to do anything out of shock at what he’s already done. All his earlier anger is drained away, body cold in its absence; the red is cleared from his brain, along with whatever spider-implanted instinct that drove him to do what he did.  _

_ The man screams again. Peter covers his ears, sinking to his knees. _

_ “What am I?” he gasps. _

…

Tony doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows that it needs to stop.

“I don’t- know what- you want,” Peter pants. “I-” he’s cut off with his own scream, collapsing in on his arm.

Norman sighs like electrocuting a child was fun at first but is now starting to bore him. “Yes you do.”

Tony yells profanity against the tape on his mouth, struggling in earnest, his heart palpitating with stray jolts of anxiety. He feels like he can’t breathe, is getting light-headed. None of his self-calming techniques are anything against seeing Peter shocked over and over for refusing to obey someone Tony should’ve protected him from long before now. 

It’s not an accident that he’s seated close enough to see the tears welling in Peter’s eyes, the sweat standing out against his straining tendons as he hugs himself through the pain. He squints up at Tony again and chokes out a sob.  _ Help _ .

_ Kid, just freaking do what he wants! _ Tony urges through eye contact. 

Peter closes his eyes tightly.

“I’m losing patience,” Norman mutters, pushing off the glass where he’d been hovering over Peter and signalling to someone in the wings of the auditorium. A security figure comes briskly to the front while restless murmurs emanate from the crowd. Norman says something into their ear, something that Peter clearly hears because his head shoots up, eyes round. 

“ _ No _ ,” Tony sees him whisper. He raises his fists to the glass and bangs on it uselessly, tracking the security figure as he makes a beeline for Tony himself. Tony bristles, then goes straight and still as a rod when a gun is pressed into his side. 

With the microphone away from his mouth and only loud enough for Peter and Tony both to hear, Norman whispers, “Your choice, darling- I don’t care either way, but one of these men will suffer at your hand, so you may as well avoid the one you like.” 

Wait, what-

Peter jolts against the glass with a scream loud enough that the audience hushes their chatting to look at him, white sparks crackling over his form. 

Time seems to slow down for what happens next. The sequence is quick, but unmistakable:

The kid is freed from the jolt but stays drawn upright, hands pressed against the glass, mouth open. He doesn’t seem to breathe and in turn they hold their breath. As Tony watches, his lips curl back and his upper canines  _ elongate into fangs _ . 

Before he’s the chance to process, he watches Peter twist toward the scorned employee and sink said fangs into the flesh of his forearm. 

The man cries out, just as shocked as the rest of them by the action. He flails his arm but Peter stays latched for several long seconds before releasing with a gasp. His teeth are normal-looking again. He stumbles back. 

Tony’s frozen, mind stalling.

A pin drop could be heard; the only sound is Peter, catching his breath from where he’s curled up against the wall, and the man, Jared- who has gone extremely pale- whimpering. 

“My arm,” he says, cradling it. Two streaks of blood from the bite are stale against his thick skin. Before their eyes, it’s swelling up, going a sickly shade of purple. “Oh g- What did you do to- what-”

He breaks off in a moan, crying out in earnest. “Someone help me! It burns! He’s poisoned me!” 

Peter’s eyes are wide, empty- not in the way they were before when he was in his chemical stupor, but in a way that tells Tony he’s seeing something terrible from the past superimposed over what is now occurring. The kid is shuddering for air still. He seems unable to take his eyes off the man in front of him, yet tortured by every sound the man makes. 

“HELP ME!” The screams echo around the auditorium, sending cold chills racing up Tony’s neck. 

Peter was bitten by a spider when he got his powers.  _ Bitten _ . Why didn’t it occur to Tony before that this was a possibility? He’s supposed to know everything about his mentee.

From what he knows, the event that gave him his powers caused the kid 24 hours of fever-like symptoms. What’s happening now is… not mild illness. It looks more like agony. And he has a feeling it doesn’t end with the man getting off as well as Peter did.

The veins on the man’s arm are going dark, giving the limb a diseased look. “Lauren?” he calls out, tone changing. Whoever Lauren is, it’s clearly someone important to him and he’s urgent to connect with them. It’s also clear that he’s hallucinating. Sweat coats his forehead. He reaches out. “Lauren, don’t leave me… don’t go…” He sobs, and the sob breaks off into another pain-filled noise. 

“Fascinating,” someone behind Tony mutters, and geez is this place filled with psychopaths? Nobody is reacting the way they’re supposed to to any of this. They’re watching like it’s Netflix.

The man starts speaking nonsense to invisible people again in between sounds of suffering and Tony has to look away, feeling ill. He doesn’t know how long it goes on for.

He turns back when Norman speaks again. “I think that’s enough to get the point,” he says mildly. 

He nods to someone in the wings again, and this time it’s one of the men who dragged Peter and Tony from the conference room who steps forward. He rounds the glass enclosure and lets himself in, grabbing onto Jared and dragging him out before there’s much hope for Peter to make use of the window. The continued sounds of suffering fade as he’s taken elsewhere.

Tony’s gaze returns to Peter and he sees the kid already looking at him, having broken out of his trance but now looking devastated. Tears leak out the corner of his eyes, his mouth moving wordlessly. 

Tony has no idea what his own expression looks like right now. 

“...on for several more hours,” he catches Norman explaining. “I daresay he’ll make himself a better employee after he gets through that.” This earns a few chuckles. “Now, I’d guess that you may be wondering if I-”

The door at the back of the auditorium- one Tony can’t see without craning his neck- suddenly slams open and the lights flick on. A blessedly familiar voice rings out: “As an officer of the United States Armed Forces, I interrupt these proceedings to announce that everyone in this room is under arrest.”

Chaos.

Audience members scream and attempt to run for the side exits while Rhodes and co. (the law enforcement officers he’s brought and Vision flying from overhead) chase them down. Tony only gets to cherish the gobsmacked look on Norman’s ugly face for a matter of seconds before he makes eye contact with Tony. Tony shrugs as if to say ‘friends in high places, what can I say?’ 

He’s always known Norman to be concealing a childish temper tantrum at all times, but the man is good at schooling himself and does so now.

He reaches for his remote.

_ Osborn, don’t you freaking- _ is all Tony manages to think before Peter is crying and thrashing. Tony jerks, desperate, yelling out in frustration at the fact that he can’t do anything. Norman offers a salute and disappears into the shadows.

At just that moment, his best friend is in front of him in full War Machine gear. He starts to reach for Tony’s handcuffs but the man shakes his head vehemently, pointing in Peter’s direction with his eyes. Rhodes peels back the tape from his mouth. “Get Peter- He’s got an electric cuff-”

The colonel understands in a heartbeat, and in not much more time than that he’s knocking the cage’s door down and at the kid’s side. In the meantime someone else comes to cut Tony out of his bonds and he stumbles upright with a muttering of thanks, following Rhodey.

His friend already has the still-buzzing shock device in a broken heap in the corner of the cell and is coaching Peter through catching his breath. When Tony arrives, he moves aside and stands, looking around.

“Tones, what on earth happened here?” he asks with true bewilderment. 

“Later,” Tony says, touching Rhodey’s arm in thanks without looking, because he only has eyes for the kid. “Pete, Peter can you look at me? It’s Tony, we’re good now. How are you-”

He’s barely hit his knees beside Peter- who’s still not breathing evenly, but is now blinking and looking around to adjust to the situation- before the kid himself lurches away like Tony will burn him. In seconds he’s stumbling upright though he has to hold onto the wall for support, legs wobbly. 

“Hey, slow down,” Tony says, startled. He climbs up as well, taking a step forward. “You’ve gotta-”

“Stop!” Peter bleats, eyes big. He’s pressing himself into the corner, hyperventilating. “Please, don’t come- don’t come-” 

Not understanding, eager to wrap him up in a hug so they both know he’s okay now, but first and foremost wanting the poor kid to just  _ breathe _ , Tony stops. He puts his hands up placatingly.

“Bud, it’s just me,” he says as soothingly as he can. His heart aches seeing the kid who can take so much reduced to this state. He should’ve never been pushed so far. “They can’t hurt you anymore. We’re safe. Safe.”

“ _ You’re _ not safe,” Peter insists, wrapping his arms around himself, looking small. “ _ You’re _ not.”

“What? Kid, really, we’re both fine. And anyways they didn’t hurt me near as much as they did you, okay? Gosh, look at you, you’re about to pass out, can you please--”

“From me!” Peter cries. His eyes dart to the side. Tony follows his gaze, still not getting it… until he realizes it’s where Jared used to be, his arm swollen with two streaks of blood from an unnatural bite wound.

He looks back at Peter, and his heart shatters.

“Peter,” he says softly. “Peter. I… I could never be afraid of you.”

“I’m a monster,” Peter whispers, closing his eyes.

“You’re not,” Tony says. “You’re-”

“Catch him!” Rhodey says from behind Tony’s shoulder, and Tony had almost forgotten he was there; it’s a good thing he is though because he’s absolutely right. Peter goes full ragdoll, passing out, and Tony just manages to catch him under the arms before his head can strike the ground. 

“Did you bring anyone who can-” Tony asks, settling the kid across his knees.

“I’ll get the medic over here,” his friend answers prematurely. Tony looks at him gratefully and he just nods, eyes warm but worried as he casts one last look at Peter.

The kid is limp in Tony’s arms, finally breathing well, but Tony can see his wrist is blistered with electrical burns (and who knows if there are any side effects from his earlier drugging with illegal untested substances). 

This is to say nothing of the emotional scars.

"Geez, bud." He brushes some hair off the kid’s forehead and tucks him closer.

… 

When Peter drifts up toward consciousness again, there is gentle sunlight on the other side of his eyelids that helps him know immediately this isn’t his bedroom. The building east of theirs blocks it from getting too bright at the hour he’s usually getting up for school. That confuses him, because where else could he be sleeping? May’s room? Ned’s house? Then there’s the whispering to clue him in:

“I really wish you’d let me take a shift; no offense, but you look like a full mess.” The speaker is quick to continue, “Your nephew never came home from school yesterday and you’ve been in fight-or-flight mode since then, I’m guessing? Have you even eaten anything?” 

A grudging sigh. “I’m not the one who was kidnapped. Why aren’t  _ you _ resting?”

“Tried. Couldn’t fall asleep.”

Machinery is quietly humming somewhere behind Peter’s head. Something is clasped around his finger, which he can tell because someone’s hand (May?) is holding onto his hand around that. He twitches his fingers in theirs.

She (yeah, May) gasps. “I think he’s waking up.”

He squints his eyes open and blinks a few times, blurry shapes swimming into focus. The way his head is turned, he immediately sees his aunt, seated at the side of the white bed that he’s laid out on. Her eyes are shadowed with bags and full of concern and yet she smiles weakly, holding his hand with both of hers now. Her make-up looks lived-in and her hair unwashed.

“Hey, baby,” she says. “How are you feeling?”

Peter’s brow furrows. He doesn’t speak at first because his mouth is tacky, but as he prepares to, he moves his gaze around the room and sees medical equipment (hospital?) and Tony Stark standing at his aunt’s shoulder. Then his tongue goes dead as the last memory of his consciousness snaps into focus. 

He feels his heart turn over sloppily in his chest. 

Tony’s eyes flick toward the monitor behind Peter’s bed, probably where Peter’s heart rate is displayed from the finger clasp. He’s got on an MIT hoodie and jeans; it’s somehow the most bizarre outfit Peter’s seen on him, despite having seen him in an expensive blazer thrown over a cat T-shirt from Target. Right now he looks like someone’s dad. 

“Peter?” May prompts. Peter looks back at her.

Did Tony tell her? Does she know what he did to the man in the cage with him? 

“Pete,” Tony says gently. “We made it out. You’re in the medbay back at the Tower. You good?”

He has to have told her, right? 

“Honey, say something. You’re scaring me.”

Guilt pricks his heart at that. She must not get it, or neither of them do. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see them looking at him with so much care. 

It’s quiet for a long moment. He imagines the shifting he hears is May and Tony looking at each other. The latter clears his throat. “Kid… I know you’re probably-” Tony starts, but Peter can’t take it.

“What now?” he forces out of his mouth, his voice rusty. Whether that’s from thirst or the screaming he’d done earlier is unclear. Even so, they go still like he’d spoken at the top of his lungs. 

“What now, what?” May repeats, unsure.

He opens his eyes again, bracing himself. “I know he told you,” he says, glancing at Tony, who has shifted closer, hands in pockets. “What I... what I did. What happened.” 

May relaxes marginally, putting a hand on Peter’s cheek. “He told me what happened,” she confirms. Her tone gets steely. “As soon as Norman Osborn is tracked down, I’m performing the lobotomy myself. What an egomaniac. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, baby, Tony and I have plans to make sure it never h--”

“No, this!” Peter interrupts, his anxiety giving way to frustration ( _ unfair, unfair, May doesn’t deserve having to deal with you _ ), batting her hands away to point at his mouth. He grimaces with his teeth showing and feels the unnatural ache deep in his gums that precede it.

May pulls back, startled, eyes glued to the fangs like she didn't recognize her nephew with them in his mouth. Behind her, Tony is the same. Nobody’s ever seen them so close before besides Peter himself, studying them in the mirror with his door locked, comparing them to those of every fanged breed of spider on the internet as fascination wars with disgust.

He feels his face heat up and recoils, covering them and turning his face away. “Sorry, sorry.” 

_ Way to go, Parker. _

Tony whispers something to May and Peter forces himself not to listen. She says something back and then she’s pushing her chair away and standing. She hesitates before reaching out and rubbing at Peter’s shoulder for a second before she turns and leaves the room.

Peter’s heart sinks.

“Kid?” Tony asks, taking her seat.

“I’m sorry,” Peter mumbles. “That was… She probably hates me.”

“You’ve met your aunt. You know she doesn’t.”

And it's true. Although May signed up for a very different child when she became Peter’s guardian to where they are now, she’s the one from whom Peter learned how to care about people. Before he looked out for any of the little guys, she looked out for him. She wouldn't leave him. The truth is, she’s not the one he’s worried about.

He turns and looks at his… mentor figure. He lowers his hands from his face. “Do you hate me?” 

Tony is leaned back (although he looks like he’d like to lean forward), arms crossed, and this time his eyes don’t stray from Peter’s despite the teeth exposure. “Peter,” he says seriously, “Why would I?”

Peter takes a deep breath, biting his lip. His extra large canines rest atop his bottom lip. “Because I…” he casts about for reasoning. “...lied to you.” 

Tony tilts his head. “In what way?”

“When you were- the first time you were in our apartment, and ever since… I didn’t tell you about this part of- of what the spider did to me.” 

“That’s not a problem.”

“But you didn’t know I’ve… hurt someone. Before. Like I did last night.”

Now the man sits up, looking carefully interested as he sets his hands on his knees. For the first time Peter notices that Tony is wearing glasses that are not sunglasses; it never occurred to him that the man might actually need a prescription outside of fulfilling his aesthetic. It contributes to the “somebody’s dad” look. 

“Well, you can tell me about it now, if you want,” he says. 

Peter winces.

“Or not,” Tony says, spreading out his fingers. “I just know-” he pauses, seeming to calculate the effect his words will have on Peter before he says them. “I know you, kiddo. You have the best heart of all of us so-called superheroes. It can’t have been on purpose.” He smiles. “I’d use the phrase ‘you wouldn’t hurt a fly’, except… spider powers. Don’t wanna speak too soon.”

Without his permission, a scoff leaves Peter’s mouth. The sound makes Tony’s smile more sure of itself, though it falls when Peter winces again. This time, it’s because of the ache behind his fangs- still extended and unused.

“What?” Tony asks.

Peter looks around, gripping the edge of his blanket. “Do you have… can I have, like, an apple or something?” he asks.

“Uh… random craving, but-” the man says, jumping to his feet as though blindsided by receiving a request and overeager to fulfil it. “The medbay refrigerator should have something.” 

He heads out and comes back not twenty seconds later.

“Hope you like Red Delicious,” he says, handing it over and setting a couple more down on the nightstand by the bed as though expecting Peter to power through them one after another. “Though, I’ll be honest, I expect you’re more hungry for…”

He trails off, obviously losing his train of thought when Peter takes the apple firmly in his hand and bites into it with his fangs. 

It’s not as easy to release venom into a fruit as it is into flesh, but it’s still a relief to get it out once called forth. The pain in his gums drains, and the fangs retreat as he takes his mouth away. 

When Peter looks at him, Tony coughs, blinking. 

Peter looks down. “Thanks,” he says, holding out the now-shriveling apple. Tony takes it from him. He seems to be waiting so Peter explains tentatively, “It hurts if I don’t get the venom out. It’s the only way to- make them normal again.”

“Coolio,” Tony says (a word he got from Peter, and often calls upon sarcastically). “Hey, that’s- don’t want you to be in pain. Glad you said something. Have you thought about being a vampire for Halloween? Just leave ‘em out, don’t tell anyone they’re not plastic.”

“I don’t know why you’re being like this,” Peter says, clenching his hands. “You saw me cause an innocent man extreme suffering, right? Your eyes were working last night? You looked freaked out then. By me. Seeing a man scream for mercy after something  _ I  _ did to him.” 

He can remember clearly because it burned him to see… the look on Tony’s face as Jared screamed was disturbed. He’d looked over at Peter, and the look hadn’t changed.

Tony sobers. “That wasn’t your fault.” 

Peter feels his eyes start to sting as he locks his gaze in the opposite direction of Tony. He doesn’t want to, but feels an overwhelming need to confess. “I’ve done it before,” he says again. “And it was on purpose that time. I wanted… I wanted to hurt them, because I was angry, but I didn’t know that I could do  _ that _ .” He takes a deep, shuddery breath and lowers his voice. “It was the man who killed my uncle Ben.”

“Oh,” Tony says softly. 

Ben is a sacred topic for Peter. He’s only mentioned him to Tony sparingly.

“The man who shot him- I tracked him down the same night,” he says, staring a hole into a spot on the wall. “I felt like- I was just in so much-”  _ Grief _ . A pain you can’t do anything for while it’s burning you alive. “I, um, I confronted him. I wasn’t even Spider-Man then, like I mean I hadn’t thought about using my powers that way. But I told him I was taking him to the police for what he did, and he laughed at me… he said something about Ben, I don’t even remember what it was, but it made me so mad. I don’t know why I… I just acted.” 

“Peter-”

“It lasted 3 hours and 14 minutes,” he whispers. “I watched the whole time. I-I- I didn’t know, I didn’t know that would happen. I didn’t mean to…”

“Hey,” Tony says softly, and he’s on the bed beside Peter now, the mattress dipping. He puts an arm around him and tugs so that Peter’s head is against his shoulder. Peter turns his face into the fabric of the MIT hoodie, its coffee and oil smell washing over him and it’s then he recognizes the feeling of tears on cheeks. 

But he needs to finish. It’s almost out of him. “I called an ambulance. I should’ve sooner but I was afraid that they would take me for questioning and I’d get discovered,” he says. He inhales sharply and lets it out again. 

“Peter Parker,” Tony sighs above him, vibration rumbling in Peter’s ear. It sounds different from when May says his whole name; she does it typically to scold him, but now, in Tony’s tone, it’s affection infected with sadness. “That sounds really hard.”

It’s a stupidly simple acknowledgement but it breaks the dam. What’s left of the wall containing his fear and helplessness of the previous night and the guilt and grief of the retelling finally dissolves. Tony shushes him gently as a sob tumbles out. And somewhere in the crying, there’s relief at having it known and having the person who knows not leaving him.

Of course, in the back of his mind, all he can think is how mortifying this is. How  _ unreal _ this is. Trying to retrace the steps of his life to find out how he came to be at a place where to an outsider, Tony Stark is looking like  _ his _ dad right now. 

(It’s certainly a few steps further from where their relationship was before the kidnapping _but_ , the voice in the back of his mind admits, _it’s not so bad_.)

A tissue enters his line of sight and he reddens, taking it and pulling back a bit to wipe his face. Tony is patient as he collects himself, humming softly. 

“Sorry,” Peter says lamely.

Tony smiles and lifts his feet onto the bed, stretching them out and crossing his ankles alongside Peter, who’s now tucked up with his knees to his chest. Tony’s arm remains a comforting weight around his shoulder. 

“You know, kid, I think it’s time I tell you about a friend of mine named Dr. Bruce Banner. You heard of him?” 

Peter blinks in uncertainty. “Duh?” he says, voice creaky. He’s not exactly composed yet.

Tony’s eyes crinkle as he jostles the smaller playfully. Peter allows himself to rest his head on the shoulder next to him as Tony goes on. 

“See, Bruce is probably the most gentle soul I’ve ever met. The first time I met him, he’d been practicing humanitarian medicine in a jungle somewhere and looked like he’d rather sink into his lab coat than talk about violence. Specifically the violent nature of his alter ego. I don’t think he’d mind me telling you: he used to  _ hate _ the big green rage monster part of himself.”

That information does stir some interest in Peter. He and Ned have spent plenty of time idolizing the avengers, and the Hulk is Ned’s favorite. Peter’d preferred the scientific contributions of Bruce Banner, but he loved that the man had an alter ego as a hero too. 

Tony sees the surprise on his face and nods, going on fondly. “It’s true. Hated him. Wouldn’t even say the name ‘Hulk’, only ‘the other guy’. Come to find out, he harbors a tremendous amount of guilt about his powers. Couldn’t absolve himself of the things he couldn’t control. You’re too young to remember this, but he did kind of break Harlem in his hayday… It was a slippery slope, but eventually he and the Hulk got into a work-life balance; and it didn’t happen until after Bruce forgave himself.

“I’m sure you see where I’m going with this but… maybe there’s a way you can learn from what even the strongest Avenger went through. I mean, Peter,” he laughs humorlessly, “Last night I watched you be tortured to the brink and have  _ my _ life threatened before you were willing to use your venom. At age 16? I know you don’t think you’re young, but I’ve seen grown men break faster. And  _ that _ shows me your character more than any mistakes you’ve made.”

_ ‘Give yourself a break’  _ is what Peter knows Tony is trying to suggest here. He wipes his face one more time before looking up and meeting the man’s eyes.

“I guess if Bruce did it,” he says slowly. “I can… work on it. I’ve kinda-- spent the whole time since then thinking that if anyone found out they would hate me, so this is a lot to take in.”

“All I ask is that you try,” Tony says. “That, and try not to push me away anymore because I have abandonment issues already.”

_ Same here, _ Peter thinks, and it’s not funny but the thought still makes him laugh thickly. How did they get here? “I can try,” he promises.

Tony jostles him again, making Peter push back a little this time in retaliation (“This is  _ my _ hospital bed, Mr. Stark, you’re being such a capitalist right now”). Inside, he’s starting to feel… a little bit like he feels when the sun comes out again after a particularly long string of gray cloudy days. He doesn’t feel absolved but he feels like feeling better is possible.

“You know, maybe we can study it more,” Tony says, bringing him back to attention. “You’ve only used it two times, maybe there’s an adjustment to it-- like how you said you were sticking to everything and breaking door knobs in the first couple weeks. It might not be so bad all the time--”

He doesn’t need to go on; the growing unease on Peter’s face is clear. He relents, “But, we don’t need to talk about that so soon. At the very least I can synthesize some antivenom to keep on hand-- would that be a step in the right direction for you?” 

Peter nods, encouraged by the thought of a failsafe.

“Perfect,” Tony says, pushing up and away and settling back in his own chair. He grabs his phone and begins typing a note to himself. “I… will… do that for you. That’s what I’m here for, I am the mentor.”

Warmth fills Peter’s chest. “You’re a great mentor.”

Tony looks up, fingers pausing. His mouth opens and he looks like he’s toying with something to say back that fits in the same vein. “And I… am glad you didn’t turn  _ all _ of these apples into Snow White’s doom, because you really need to eat something, you little gremlin. Here,” he throws one of the good apples and Peter catches it easily, holding in laughter, “Eat that. Friday? We need some more food. And the doctor to check him out while you’re at it. Is May still awake or did she finally…”

Peter takes a bite of the apple, watching Tony continue to ramble to his AI. Eventually he stops and sighs, picking up the apple Peter bit and tossing it in the biohazard garbage can.

“You know what we need to talk about?” he says when he turns back around, and the look on his face says he knows Peter isn’t gonna like it. “That warehouse footage.”

The apple chunk in Peter’s throat suddenly feels like it needed a lot more chewing. He chokes out an, “Oh.”

Tony sits. “I’m willing to put a pin in it for now… One thing at a time, you feel?” At Peter’s nodding, he finishes, “Okay, just know it’ll come back. Probably with May in the room as we sort further safety measures out.”

He folds his arms, looking at the door briefly. Looks back at Peter. “You know, you really  _ could _ pull off the vampire thing for Halloween.”

“I was actually thinking of being Spider-Man,” Peter says, setting his apple down. “But maybe that’s too meta.”

His mentor mirrors his mischievous grin. “No, I like it. Everyone would admire how realistic the suit you ‘made’ is, not to mention MJ admiring how nicely you fill it out.” He winks. 

Peter’s stomach flips. “Oh my gosh, please shut up.”

“I mean I know nothing about what teenage girls like these days, but I’m pretty sure strong, sparkling boys made the list recently.”

“I regret everything. I regret everything.”

“Friday? Please make sure the food coming for Peter doesn’t have any garlic in it, we wouldn’t want to make him sick--”

He’s cut off by a pillow smacking him in the face. 

**Author's Note:**

> insert gif of peter as the little vampire baring his teeny fangs


End file.
